


Scars

by BlueButterflyDreamer



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25854859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueButterflyDreamer/pseuds/BlueButterflyDreamer
Summary: “Any time you want… we can compare scars. I got some I am shoar you’d be interested in.”
Relationships: John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28
Collections: Morston Week 2020





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> For MorstonWeek2020, day 4's prompt: Scars.

“I don’t think they healed right.” John spoke as he peered into Arthur’s shaving mirror at the scars emblazoned across his cheek, his eyes intent as he studied each scar individually, their still angry red edges rising from his face as if mocking him.

Arthur stood, arms crossed over his chest watching him, a small grin crept on to his face as he thought on the other scars that John had. He knew John had quite a few, but he wondered how many more there were hiding on his body that he hadn’t yet seen.

He was drawn back to the conversation when Marston turned to him, “You okay there Morgan, you off wool collecting?”

Arthur collected himself from his musing, embarrassed he had been caught daydreaming and shot a disapproving look at John.

“Marston, are you about done gawking at yourself in my mirror? I’d like to shave some time soon.”

John huffed as he strutted away to the other side of their camp and began to groom their horses.

Looking back over his shoulder he watched, with deepening interest and an ache in his heart, as Arthur lathered up his beard.

John swallowed hard, fighting the urge to walk back over to watch Arthur as he handled the straight razor. He had absolutely no fear as he laid the blade against his skin, something John fought with every time and now with the scars on his face, it made it that much more uncomfortable, but the way Arthur handled it gave rise to a strange feeling in John’s chest.

What would it be like if Arthur shaved him? The thought crept into his mind, along with other images that made it much more exciting. He felt his face go hot and he shook his head trying to focus on the horse he currently was brushing.

Arthur wiped the residuals of soap from his chin and checked the job he had completed on his beard nodding in acceptance and glanced over to where John was busying himself.

Since attaining the scars ,from the wolves after being lost in the snow, Marston had seemed to have changed, and as they had spent more time together it was obvious, at least to Arthur, that it had been for the better.

John had matured, grown up so to speak and Arthur found that he liked this new side of John very much.

Arthur would never admit that he had a soft spot for John, especially not to his face. The longer they spent together the more Arthur had come to find that his feelings had changed towards him. Feelings that Arthur had buried deep down, afraid to express should he be turned away, mocked or ridiculed for. Feelings that kept him up late into the wee hours of the morning, tossing and turning in his bed roll when John was sleeping only a matter of a few feet away, oblivious to the man with such hidden and pained desires.

What Arthur didn’t know was that John too struggled with the same feelings, and he too had tried to bury them deep within, but unfortunately this trip was looking as if it might undo all of his hard work.

John finished his grooming and sat down on the log by the fire, stretching his long legs out and crossing them at the ankles. He pulled his knife from its sheath and began to whittle a piece of wood.

Arthur strode over and lowered himself to the fire, took up the coffee-pot and poured himself a cup of coffee. He sat with ease on the log across from John and looked over at him.

He studied the man intently, hoping that John might look up and inquire as to what was wrong, but no such luck.

Tonight, for some reason that Arthur could not explain, he felt like pushing the topic a little further. He wanted to _“test the waters”_ so to speak to see if he would either sink or swim.

“Tell you what, truth be told, I think they make ya look kinda older, kinda tougher.”

“Ya think?” John muttered. “Well, I must be really tough with the number of scars I have then.”

“Yeah, I do, and they ain’t so bad. I’ve seen worse. Lots worse.” Arthur offered.

“Yeah, but on my face? It’s ugly enough as it is.”

Arthur sipped his coffee.

“I’ve got a few, but I’s don’t think much ‘bout em,” Arthur lifted the cup to his lips, “and you ain’t so ugly, just take to them, I have already.”

He stopped realising what the words he just uttered might have sounded like. To John. Hopefully they came across the way he intended.

John did not react at first, he sat, head down whittling the piece of wood still clutched, now much more tightly, in his hands.

Arthur sat perfectly still. He drew a sharp breath in then blew it out between his teeth. This _was_ proving to be very interesting and enjoyable.

Arthur thought it akin to fishing. You had to sometimes toss the line in a few times to see if anything was interested in the bait.

John finally broke the silence.

“If I didn’t know better, Morgan, I’d think you were sweet on me.”

Arthur gulped at his coffee. Hook, line and now… Arthur figured since the fish was on the line, why not go all the way with it and reel it in.

“Who says I ain’t?”

John dropped the piece of wood he was whittling and stared into Arthur’s eyes. There was a blatantly bare honesty there that he had not quite expected. John knew his own feelings, since he had to deal with them, any time he looked in Arthur’s direction, or heard his voice, or worse, if they ever brushed up against each other.

Arthur decided to go all in now, and land it.

“Any time you want… we can compare scars. I got some I am shoar you’d be interested in.”

Hesitantly, at first, then with rising assuredness, John moved towards Arthur and knelt before him, his hand rising up to touch the scar on his chin. He ran his thumb over it looking into Arthur’s blue eyes. He leaned forward and kissed it gently.

John was still for a second, then he spoke softly.

“You want to show me them now?”

Arthur stood, pulling John up roughly against his chest.

He stared down into John’s eyes, watching as the pupil grew larger. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest.

He watched as John licked his lips.

He saw the scar on his lip and suddenly he wanted to kiss it.

“How about we start with the one I know is here.” Arthur’s hands rested on John’s lower back.

John’s eyes darkened and the intensity of his yearning burned brightly in them.

His arms snaked up and around Arthur’s neck, his fingers gently tugging his hair, then pulling his head forward towards his own.

“Only if you show me yours first.”


End file.
